


Stand in the Place That You Live

by Shayheyred



Category: due South
Genre: Essays, Gen, Meta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-09 08:46:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/772291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shayheyred/pseuds/Shayheyred
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is a man's home -- or apartment, or cubicle, or storeroom -- really his castle? An exploration of the living spaces inhabited by Fraser and the two Rays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stand in the Place That You Live

One of the most shrewd and wonderful aspects of _Due South_ is how well the set designers and art directors interpreted the spaces associated with each character, be they work stations or apartments, making each one a fully-realized representation of the person who lives or works there. Though this is not necessarily the case with the outside scenes (the "Chicago" we see could be Any Big North American City Where it Snows, which it is, in reality), once inside, a remarkably thorough and effective job was done of showing details that enhance our understanding of the characters. 

This is not a radical concept; every place inhabited by a human being will in time reflect his or her personality. Don't believe me? Look around you right now and see what your desk or your living room or your bedroom says about you. Mine says "likes bright colors, spends too much time on computer," and "desperately needs a maid." It works in reverse, too -- you should be able to go into someone's home and get insight into who they are. In my opinion the artistic folks at _Due South_ got it right, when it comes to the living spaces of the main characters. 

(And no, I do not include Turnbull and his cardboard box.)

* * *

Oh, the wild and wacky Vecchio household! Right off the bat, the dinner-table scene in the pilot provides enough information for a Build Your Own Ray Vecchio Starter Kit. As we become a guest at the massive, groaning-with-food dining room table, we begin to observe that when it comes to Ray Vecchio--

He's the nominal head of the household, but his mother calls the shots  
He has no privacy whatsoever  
He is irritated by his family, and possibly a little embarrassed by them  
He loves his family anyway  
He is, in some ways, a mamma's boy  
He's loud because he's used to shouting in order to be heard  
He comes by his combative nature genetically  
He feels protective of his family  
He also wants to protect Fraser from the Vecchio family

All of this may be inferred just from the people who live in Ray's house, and his reaction to them. As for the inanimate contents, the decorations in the house are Early Italian-American – that is to say, a lot of stuff held over from previous generations, a tendency to have fussy contents and a plethora of knick-knacks, a décor over which the men in the family have no control– etc. By the way, you could substitute "Jewish-American" or "Greek-American" or "Irish-American" or any other strongly-identifying European ethnic group here. I've seen the same kind of stuff in my grandmother's apartment in Queens, and she was from a place in Eastern Europe obliterated by Cossacks...or Nazis...or possibly both ( I forget the actual villains in the tale.) Under the plastic and antimacassars, the few pieces of furniture we see close up are massive and of good quality. There is solidity here, and heritage, and pride.

In a later episode we do get to see Ray and Fraser dealing with the joys of sharing a bathroom with a large family, most of them female. It's no wonder Ray Vecchio's temper always seems to be on a short fuse. Wouldn't yours be? Poor guy – sharing mirror space with three women, several children and a brother-in-law obsessed with dental hygiene. The house itself seems large, and rather old, with lovely wood. It strikes me that the Vecchios have lived there for some time – probably since Ma and Pop Vecchio were married. How Ray's ne'er-do-well father managed it is anyone's guess, unless it's been inherited. 

The episode "Victoria's Secret" is a goldmine of information about Ray Vecchio's home. For once he gets his heart's desire, a pool table, but must move his mother's furniture to fit it in. Even then it's not a good fit; it seems Ray is fated to grate against his surroundings as much as he does his coworkers and his partner. And he can only move the table in because his family is away. Poor Ray; is he hoping to "sneak in" the massive pool table, hoping it's easier to get his ma to forgive after the fact than to allow it in the first place? Or will he move it out again when they return, ever the good son?

The overwhelming feeling I get, all things considered, is of tradition and permanence. Ray Vecchio is firmly connected to this house despite all the inconveniences. After all, he chooses to live there, chooses to let Ma cook his meals. Whether that's for convenience, or the phenomenon of the Italian bachelor living at home, as they do in the old country – or the expectations of others, or his own sense of responsibility to his family – who's to know? I choose to see it as a combination of all those ingredients. The Ray Vecchio who lives in that house is a family man, a man of obligations, whether those obligations carry some resentment or not. It takes a lot of character to leave all that behind and go undercover with the mob.

Just as a side note: in "Burning Down the House" we get one shot of Frannie's bedroom, but that one shot is all we need. Her dresser mirror reminds us without words of how girly she is, and how she's obsessed with Fraser. That one picture, with her lipstick-smudged kiss, is hilarious and oddly poignant. Inside Frannie is an adolescent, with a school-girl crush that just won't go away.

* * *

Imagine you're the detective; what are you to make of the contents of Ray Kowalski's apartment?

This is the apartment of a divorced cop, yet it's not the sterile "passing-through" flat so many divorced men inhabit. No – this is one rich with clues about the spiky-haired "replacement" Vecchio. And these are the clues Fraser searches through in the episode "Eclipse."

Clearly Ray has been there long enough for it to have acquired a lived-in look. His divorce isn't all that recent. This only makes it sadder in my book, because apparently some period of time has passed since he and Stella were divorced, and yet he's still hanging on to her in his heart.

Though his stuff isn't the best quality (and who survives a divorce with buckets of cash?) he has furniture, housewares. China. An old desk. A bicycle. Posters. A grown-up bed. Chili lights. A rug. Bar stools. Dance steps painted on the floor. A turtle.

A _turtle_. Ray, the man who says he only looks out for number one, has a pet. 

Or maybe "Speedy" or "Chuck" or "Waxy" or "Turtle" or "Hey You" or "Butch" or "Fido" or whatever the turtle's name may be is less of a pet and more of a sounding board. If Ray Vecchio is a man who could use a little quiet at home, Ray Kowalski seems to be someone who doesn't want the quiet. He's alone because he's divorced, but after being married, it seems he needs another presence in his home, even if it's just a turtle.

I find that quite touching, really, and rather hopeful, as is the fact he has something besides himself for whom he is responsible. No wonder his protests to Fraser about watching out for himself are followed by him stepping into the path of a bullet to save his partner.

* * *

Fraser's first apartment breaks my heart.

I don't know which is worse, the bare desolation of the seedy building and the sparse (nonexistent) furnishings, or the fact that he finds it acceptable to live there.

But does he? Is Benton Fraser really content to live in such a sad, empty place? Is he as naïve as he appears, meeting threats and shunning glances with affability and turning them into opportunities to help others? Or perhaps, is Fraser's slum apartment a penance he must endure for his banishment from Canada?

I confess I don't know the answer. It's up to you – and fanfic – to determine the correct answer.

It may appear Fraser does have all he needs – his father's trunk, with its layers of history and hints about the father he barely knew; a lamp to read by; a plate; a sleeping bag; and of course, Diefenbaker, who is definitely not a pet. How wonderful for character development that even as Fraser becomes more acclimated to the Chicago way of life, he adds only the barest amenities to his home – an actual bed -- narrow and made for one, though he shares it with Victoria (and Mark, are some of you saying? Or Ray?) – and of course, candles, which are the center of the most affecting and overtly emotional scene of "Victoria's Secret." With those candles, Fraser creates the illusion that his home has warmth, the warmth of another living, loving person, to end his desperate loneliness. So it seems, in that terrible, wonderful scene, that he doesn't really have what he needs after all.

As for his digs in the Canadian Consulate, after his apartment burns down – Fraser loses even the semblance of his own place. Now he lives in a storage room, with a cot and a desk. It's a room he can hardly call his own; his privacy is routinely invaded by Inspector Thatcher. He has his sleeping bag, and the remnants of his trunk. In the closet is a Hudson blanket.

But oh, that closet! In that closet Fraser has something he may not think he wants, but which he needs very much indeed. He has his father -- ghost or fantasy though he may be -- to advise, lecture, provoke, debate…to care for him. That's more than he had growing up, and if it's a bit late in coming, it's still a welcome, loving connection. Fraser has been alone in a strange place, but he's not alone any more.


End file.
